I can sew a little bit, but I wouldn’t know where to begin making britches for a kitten. And I certainly don’t know how big they would be if I were to try to make a kitten’s britches out of a patch of blue sky.

            My cousin Becky was visiting from Alabama the weekend the church youth group was planning a day trip canoeing down Juniper Run. I was excited for Becky to get to know my church friends and looking forward to a day of fun on the water.

            But Saturday morning dawned wet and miserable. The rain would stop occasionally but the sky stayed gray and gloomy.

            As teenagers began to arrive, my pastor/daddy and T.C. Grant and a few other adults stood in a circle in the church yard deciding if the trip was a go or a no-go.

            The kids all wanted to go ahead with the trip. We wanted to be optimistic that the weather would clear. T.C. said the wind and rain the night before had been so hard the creek was probably littered with fallen limbs and it might be impossible for canoes to get through.

            Daddy said he had always heard that if there’s a spot of blue sky big enough to make a kitten’s britches you should go ahead with your plans. The old saying gave no guidelines for how large the kitten or the style of the britches.

            That day we couldn’t find a single patch of blue in the sky so we cancelled the canoe trip. Other times since then, I’ve spied a spot of blue peeking from behind the clouds and gone ahead with my outdoor plans. The day might have started damp and depressing but the rain didn’t ruin the whole day.

            Sophisticated radars and 24-hour weather updates make old-timey weather clues seem quaint and cryptic. But on dreary mornings when I’m trying to decide whether or not to cancel outdoor plans, I still scan the heavens looking for enough clear blue sky to make a kitten’s britches.